by Tolsma, Liz;
Why couldn’t she see he did it because he cared about her?
Chapter Twenty
A low fog swirled around R.D.’s feet as he placed the last of the suitcases into the car’s trunk and slammed it shut. He opened the front door, and light spilled into the inky early-morning darkness. He yelled inside. “Are you ladies about ready?”
This vacation was long overdue. Waiting each day for Tann to arrive on their doorstep and snatch Pearl from them wore on Darcy until she was nothing more than a bundle of nerves. When he told her they were going to Mississippi to visit her family for an extended stay, a light shone in her eyes that he hadn’t seen in many weeks.
Pearl bounded down the steps, wearing a frilly pink dress, her hair in what Darcy called sausage rolls peeking from underneath her pink bonnet.
Darcy followed close behind, her hollow cheeks pink. This trip would do her good. When they returned, perhaps all this brouhaha with Tann would be done. They could resume their lives in peace.
She kissed him on the cheek as she went by. “Thank you, darling. I can’t wait to introduce Momma and Daddy to Pearl. They’re going to love her, don’t you think?”
“How could they not?”
They all climbed into the automobile, Pearl snuggled in the backseat with no less than half a dozen stuffed animals. R.D. started the engine, and he backed out of the driveway. After several blocks, he peered into his rearview mirror. Strange, that same Packard had been behind them when they first left home.
Pearl chattered in the backseat, talking to Darcy about tea parties and singing to her baby doll. This trip also took them away from Vance and his prying eyes. He’d been true to his word and had stayed away since he’d brought Pearl that package.
It had startled R.D. when Vance called Pearl by the name of the child he was searching for, the one he’d roped R.D. into helping him find. But maybe …
No, God, it couldn’t be. Couldn’t be that their precious child had been stolen from a woman who loved her daughter and cared well for her. That Pearl belonged to someone else.
He glanced behind him again. What kind of car did Vance drive? The man inside was tall, just like Vance.
R.D.’s mind had to be playing tricks on him. He was getting as paranoid as Darcy. He needed this getaway as much as his wife did. Maybe more.
Before too long, they left the confines of Memphis and rolled into Mississippi, leaving behind the large buildings, the crowded neighborhoods, and the congested roads. Here, the fertile delta soil supported cotton and tobacco, and the fields stretched in front of them, now browning, the ripening cotton balls white in the cloud-studded pink dawn. A cloud snuffed out his view.
And still that car was behind them. Definitely following them.
Pearl stood up behind R.D. and Darcy, between them. “Daddy, I hafta go potty.”
“Not now.”
Darcy touched his arm. “You don’t need to be short with her. A stop would be good.”
“We aren’t stopping.”
“What has gotten into you?”
Pearl sniveled.
“I’m sorry, Miss Muffet, but this isn’t a good place to stop.”
“R.D.?”
“We’re being followed.”
“Followed!” A flash of lightning lit the sky.
“I wave.” Pearl spun around, but R.D. reached out and nabbed her by the arm, the car swerving as he did so.
His heart thumped against his ribs. “Just sit down and be a good girl.”
“But I wanna wave.”
“No.”
“Pearl, listen to your daddy.” Darcy clasped her hands together, her knuckles white. She leaned closer to R.D. “Can’t you go any faster?”
He shook his head and focused his attention on the black ribbon of road in front of them illuminated by the headlights. He unbuttoned the top button of his oxford shirt. Sweat poured down his neck.
The vehicle behind them made no move to pass, no matter how slow R.D. went.
“You have to lose them, R.D.”
“This isn’t the cinema, Darcy. I’m doing the best I can. And if they had wanted to run us off the road or shoot at us, they would have done so by now.”
“Shoot?” Darcy quivered.
Oh, he’d said the wrong thing.
“Who do you think these people are?”
“I think it’s Percy Vance.”
“Vance? Why ever—” She blanched. “No, no. You don’t think that she’s—”
“I don’t know, sweetheart, and that’s the honest truth. Miss Tann has had some pretty shady dealings. It’s possible.” Thunder rumbled in the distance.
“And that’s why he came to our house. To see her. To see if that was her birthday.”
“And he was close.”
Inside, his guts twisted into a thousand knots. Darcy must be going crazy.
“I gotta go potty.”
“Soon, baby, soon.” Darcy crooned the words to Pearl, who sucked on her thumb.
Did Vance know what was in that file? The one R.D. hadn’t had the courage to unseal?
They came to a section of road in the process of being repaired. Instead of asphalt, loose gravel covered the street, and the car’s tires kicked up dust, obliterating R.D.’s view of the automobile behind them. Up ahead, he spied a dirt road that turned to the right. This might be their chance to lose whoever was following them. Before they realized R.D. wasn’t ahead of them, they might be past the road.
With a sharp crank of the wheel, he turned onto the rough dirt lane.
Darcy gasped. “Pearl, sit down. What are you doing, R.D.?”
“Losing them.”
Tires and wagon wheels had etched deep ruts into the road, if you could call it that. They bumped along, their teeth almost shaken out of their mouths. He spun around to see if Vance still followed them. With the choking dust, he couldn’t make out a thing. They hit a large bump. R.D. flew upward. The car tumbled.
The sickening grind of metal against tree rang in Cecile’s ears as she stared at the Griggs’s car wrapped around an ancient oak. God, no! “Millie Mae! My baby!” She grabbed the door handle.
“Where are you going?”
“I have to get to my baby. She might be hurt. Or worse.” Cecile couldn’t bring herself to say the word.
“No, you aren’t.”
How dare he? “Don’t tell me what to do.”
He grabbed her by the wrist. She shook him off.
“Let me go to them first.”
“Why?” And then it hit her like lightning from a thunderhead. He believed the worst. Didn’t want her to find Millie in such a state. “No. I have to go to Millie. She needs me.” She shoved to the back of her mind the pictures of her daughter bleeding. Bruised. Broken.
“I’ll signal when you can come.”
“I have to go to my baby.” Nothing would keep her from her little girl.
“I’m protecting you.”
“I don’t need protection. I need Millie.”
For a moment, he drew her into an embrace. Kissed the top of her head. Spoke soothing words to her. “Let me go. I’m sure the girl is fine, but I want to be the one to check.”
And in that moment, she relaxed against him. A caretaker. A protector. An overseer. How she had missed that kind of comfort. Too soon, he released her and opened his door.
“Please—” A sob cut off her words.
“I will.”
He understood that she wanted him to make sure Millie was alive.
No sooner had he exited the vehicle, the dark storm clouds overhead released their fury. The wind whipped up the dust, a bolt of lightning lit the roiling darkness, thunder shook the floorboards beneath Cecile’s feet. Sheets of rain tamped down the dust and all but obliterated her view of Percy. Through the downpour, she could only make out his silhouette.
He crept along the cars, inching his way forward. He came to the back door on the driver’s side, but they had glimpsed Millie behind Darcy. He proceeded to the fr
ont door and tugged it open.
Why wasn’t he going to Millie? He should have checked on her first. She was just a child, sure to be frightened. Adrenaline rushed through Cecile and propelled her forward. Ignoring Percy’s directive, she flung her door open and stepped into the tempest. In short order, it had turned the hard-packed ground into a mud pit. She took three steps and slid, catching herself on the hood of Percy’s car. But she had to hurry. Had to get to her daughter. Had to help her.
As fast as she dared move, she slipped her way to where her daughter had been sitting. Please, God, was still sitting. She reached the door and tugged and tugged on the handle. It held fast. She braced herself and yanked again. Her feet slid. With a plop, she landed on her backside in the mud, oozing wetness seeping through her dress. None of that mattered. Only her Millie Mae.
Holding to the door handle, she worked to get her feet underneath her, her T-strap shoes not made for messing in the slime. For her next try, she braced herself on the car and put in every ounce of effort. Still nothing. She shuffled to the front door and yanked. It refused to budge.
No. She had to get to Millie now. She could be bleeding, dying. “God, help me!” A crash of thunder swallowed her words. She tried again. And again. And again. “No!” Goose bumps broke out all over her flesh.
As fast as she could without falling, she crossed to the driver’s side. Percy had the door open. Mr. Griggs sat slumped over the wheel. Was he dead? What about the rest? Cecile couldn’t breathe. “Dear God!”
Beside him, Mrs. Griggs moaned. Percy shook R.D.’s shoulder.
“Percy.”
He whipped around to Cecile. “Get in the car.”
“I need to see.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Is she …?”
“I can’t reach her!” he shouted to her over the gale.
She clawed at her cheeks. If they discovered the worst …
“Wh–wh–what happened?” Mrs. Griggs’s eyes were glazed over. She groaned.
“Millie? Millie!”
“My baby. Pearl, sweetie? Pearl?”
No answer to either call. Cecile’s heart pounded as loud as the rolling thunder. “Let me crawl in the back.”
Percy shook Mr. Griggs again. Still no response.
“Is he dead?”
“I don’t think so. Just unconscious. Get in.”
The wind stuck her sodden skirt to her legs as she crawled over Mr. Griggs and flopped over the seat to the back. “Millie. Millie Mae, it’s Mommy. Answer me.”
Utter silence.
Trembling from head to toe, she rummaged through piles of stuffed animals, but Millie was nowhere to be found. Had she been thrown from the car? “Millie! Answer me!” She touched warm flesh. Millie’s arm. She grasped it. “Millie, can you hear me?”
This time, in response, Cecile got a soft whimper. She released a breath. Millie was alive. Praise the Lord.
“Can you say something to me?”
“I want Mommy.”
Cecile’s skin prickled. Mommy. Not Momma. Not what Millie always called her. But she might be confused. Had to be. Cecile worked to keep the tremor from her voice. “Do you have any boo-boos?”
“My leg hurts.”
“Okay. You stay still. I’ll help you.”
“Where’s my mommy?”
In the storm’s inkiness, in the confusion, in the pain, she must not recognize Cecile. But how did she answer that question?
“Right here, Millie, right here. Everything’s going to be okay.”
In the dim glow of the auto’s interior light, Cecile stared at the child in the backseat of the Griggs’s car, her throat gone dry, her arms and legs trembling. Weeks upon weeks had passed since she’d seen her daughter.
Millie wore a pink bonnet similar to the one Cecile had for her but not exactly the same. Her face wasn’t as round. Her eyes were a little different shade of green. The mouth, however, was the same. Just the same.
Cecile reached out, her fingers quaking, and brushed the child’s soft face. Tears raced down her cheek. “Millie?”
The girl blinked three times.
“Millie!” She reached out to draw her daughter close.
The child shrank against the corner of the car.
“It’s okay. Momma’s here now.” Her chest tightened.
“No, you’re not Momma.”
Cecile’s heart shattered into a thousand pieces.
“No one is going to hurt you if you remember where you came from. If you remember me.” What had Miss Tann done to her child? Please, Millie, dig deep in your brain. “Do you know our little apartment and how you used to help me make dinner and how you used to draw pretty pictures on the back of envelopes?”
“No.” She stuck out her lower lip. When had Millie learned to do that? She’d changed.
“We would go to the park together, and I’d push you on the swing.”
“Mommy and Daddy swing me.”
The lump in Cecile’s throat threatened to choke her. But this was her child. Her voice resonated deep inside Cecile.
“My leg hurts.”
Cecile willed herself to stop shaking. There would be time to talk to Millie later. To help her recall her past. Right now, she was in pain and needed help. She needed Cecile to be her mother. “Oh Mills, I’m sorry. Can I have a peek at it?”
“Will it hurt?”
Her speech had improved. Matured. “I promise to be gentle.”
Millie nodded.
Cecile lifted a pink and purple blanket from the girl’s lap and exposed her stocking-clad leg. “I’m going to have to pull your stocking down. Is that okay?”
Another nod.
As Cecile tugged the black sock, Millie winced.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you.” And she was. Sorry for not finding her sooner. “You can hold onto me.”
The child gripped Cecile’s shoulder, hard enough she’d be left with fingernail marks. “Here we go.” Being as gentle as possible, Cecile rolled the stocking down the rest of the way.
An angry bruise had turned the small shin black and blue. Millie’s knee was a little swollen but not too much. “I’m going to feel your leg to make sure you haven’t broken any bones. Are you ready?”
Millie shook her head.
Cecile chuckled. That was something her daughter would do. “I have to see, so I’m going to do it on the count of three. One, two, three.”
Millie sucked in a breath but didn’t complain throughout the entire examination.
“That’s such a good girl. I’m so proud of you. And I don’t think you broke your leg. You have a black-and-blue mark that’s going to be sore for a while, but you’re going to be fine. Just fine.”
Especially now that they would be together once more. A family, like they should be. No one would ever separate them again. Not ever. She’d never let Millie out of her sight.
While Percy tended to the Griggses, Cecile pulled her daughter close. This time, Millie didn’t resist. Oh, how good to hold her in her arms once more. How good to feel the warmth of her little body against hers. How good to again be complete and whole.
She brushed Millie’s tangled brown sausage curls from her face. What was that behind her ear? Cecile leaned in for a closer inspection. A dark spot. She tried to rub it away. The mark was about the size of a quarter and raised.
She broke out in a cold sweat.
God, no. No! Don’t do this to me. Do you hear me? Do not do this to me.
She closed her eyes. Maybe she was seeing things. The cold was playing tricks with her mind. She opened her eyes. But the spot remained. Millie didn’t have a birthmark. Her skin was perfect, unblemished. Her spirit may have been that of a firecracker, but her skin was that of an angel.
There was no denying it. This wasn’t Millie.
Chapter Twenty-One
No! No! No!” Cecile cried out, her shrieks bursting with pain. Her wails pierced Percy to his very core. It was as though a piece of he
r was being torn away. They were the screams of an animal in utter agony.
Percy climbed over Griggs, over the backseat, and shook Cecile, maybe too hard, because her head flopped. “Stop it. Stop it. What’s wrong? Tell me.” Was the child hurt? Had something happened to her?
“It can’t be. It just can’t be. Dear God, no.” The shrieks lessened, now replaced by tears.
His breath came in short gasps. “What is it?”
“Please, no.” Beside him, she quivered all over.
He drew her close and held her tight. “I need to know what’s wrong.”
“It’s Millie.”
His insides plummeted like an out-of-control elevator. “What happened to her?” She hadn’t appeared to be too badly hurt, but perhaps she had internal injuries. Had she fainted? Stopped breathing?
No, Lord, not the child. Not when they were so close.
“It’s not her.”
Maybe Cecile had bumped her head when she’d taken that tumble. “You aren’t making sense.”
“But I am. I was too blind to see it before, but now it’s so plain.”
He whispered in her ear. “What is clear to you?”
“This child.” Her words were strangled. “She’s, she’s … Oh, I can’t even say it.”
“You can tell me anything.”
She turned in his arms and gazed at him, her eyes shimmering with fresh tears. Her features crumpled. All the fight left her. “She’s not …” Now the tears rolled down her cheeks as fast and furious as the summer’s storm.
“She’s not Millie, is she?”
Cecile shook her head.
He kissed her temple, just a brush of his lips against her cold flesh. “I’m sorry.” His head drooped. Poor Cecile. She had been through so much. “This is why I didn’t want you to get your hopes up. I hate to see you disappointed.”
“How could I have been so sure just minutes before? A mother should know her own child. I felt it in my soul, in the deepest recesses of myself, that she was mine. I don’t know my own child. How will we ever find her if I don’t even recognize her?” A moan tore from within her.
Percy embraced her as she wept deep, bitter, long-overdue tears. Alongside them in the backseat, Pearl cried. From Darcy in the front seat came wrenching sobs. “Give me my baby. My daughter.”